Marlon James - A Brief History of Seven Killings

The worst part was the defib. Every time they shocked Benjy and his body jerked, the whole crowd jerked too, even people outside who weren’t even seeing it. Electric shock-body jerk-crowd jump. Electric shock-body jerk-crowd jump. Electric shock-body jerk-crowd jump. After one hour Doctor Lopez finally called what should have been called from the minute they wheeled that body in. And then, whoa. Word then just circled through the crowd that they couldn’t save him. Benjy Wales was dead. They kicked down the ER doors first. Three thousand men, women and children, most of them with guns, the rest with the kind of heart that doesn’t need guns. We di bombocloth. We goin’ kill the whole ah unu, we goin’ murder down this whole bombor’asscloth hospital. Fifty doctor and nurse for killing Benjy . Some men grabbed a nurse and started slapping her. Doctor Lopez said he jumped in but two men grabbed him and gun-butted him in the head. They turned over the reception desk and the poor security guards did the only thing they could do. They ran. The doc doesn’t know how it happened, but just right then a new wave just washed over the crowd and they started shouting that it’s not the doctors that killed Benjy, it was the PNP.

By Sunday night they hit Lane Six of the Eight Lanes. They shot every man in sight and raped every woman in reach. Burned down almost a third of the houses and shot some children to seal the deal. Two days later they fucking decimated Lane Three. Then they took that fight to Miami with drive-by shootings, bullet holes in Honda Accords and night clubs. Two of my buddies said they barely made it out of the Rolex Club, the way the Jamaicans were shooting each other up. The Prime Minister had to reach out to the JLP to organize a truce, and even then they had to get the church to organize some peace marches. They only stopped when all this killing was getting in the way of Benjy’s funeral plans. I didn’t go to the funeral. I’m not even supposed to be here, officially. Okay, I lie. I did go to the funeral, but I think they might have mistaken me for a bodyguard or something. The last time I saw a funeral that big it was the Singer’s.

At least twenty thousand people. There’s the former Prime Minister, of course. Needless to say, he was opposition in 1976, then Prime Minister in ’80 and now back to opposition in ’91. First a marching band, almost like in New Orleans, the men in white uniforms, the girls in red minidresses and pom-poms. Then coffin, black with silver handles with the dead boy in a black velvet suit. If you’re never gonna sweat why not go out in winter style? The coffin in a motherfucking white-horse-driven glass hearse right up behind the marching band. Then the former Prime Minister walking with Benjy’s queen woman in a skintight little black dress, thick gold chain like you see on those rap guys. Big earrings. As soon as you see her you notice every other woman there. Gold lamé minidress, pink minidress, white minidress, fishnet stockings, silver high heels, bird as hats, hats as birds, more cargo chains. One girl had a open back dress that plunged right down into her ass crack. Every woman moving down the street like it was a catwalk.

Josey tried to get leave (which is a weird way of saying it) to go to his son’s funeral but they wouldn’t allow it. Why would they? Let the don out of prison to twenty thousand of his own people, how the hell would you get him back? U.S. government probably heard that idea and screamed a thousand no’s. Funny that for most of the eighties when Josey built his empire — with major help of course — they didn’t so much as give a fuck about him. Fucking New York, man, I told him he shouldn’t have done that shit. Black boys really gotta learn to control their fucking tempers. That day in 1985 Josey Wales shot out of nowhere to near the top of the DEA and the Feds’ list. And as soon as the JLP got kicked out of power he became one hell of a sitting duck.

But before all that, the bigger he got the more untouchable he was. Josey is driving down some street, I can’t remember which, but this is in a place called Denham Town. Wales drives straight into a bus. Comes out and he’s mad. But the driver is just losing it and drawing a crowd. Don’t know what he said but he just going off and off, and shouting and threatening and God knows what. The only time he shut up was when some woman shouted is Josey Wales and the whole street scatters leaving the poor bus driver. Josey’s not even looking at him when the man makes like Road Runner straight to the police station. Poor guy. About thirty minutes later, Josey Wales shows up at the police station with ten of his boys. They walk right inside, grab the bus driver, and walk right out. Not a single cop even gets up. The man must have shat himself and bawled like a fucking girl when he saw the policemen looking the other way in their own fucking station. Right outside, with cops and people watching, those with guns shoot the bus driver, those without guns stab him. Was like crows upon fresh carcass. They arrested Josey, of course, but the prosecution just couldn’t find any witnesses. Not a single one.

Meanwhile Cali is saying this motherfucker is a badass like no other badass has ever been fucking bad. Give him and his posse the U.K.

This was the man who went into Rema with his boys, and killed twelve just like that. Why? Because some of the guys there started to complain that their little community was being neglected. Josey was always one for making his points clear. Police filed a warrant, Josey skips to the USA, but by now he’s a Person of Interest so he skips back to Jamaica. They take him to court, but the one witness suddenly she’s got amnesia, no wait, she wasn’t there, no wait, is a long time now she hasn’t changed her glasses prescription so now she’s blind as a bat. Really she just can’t remember and was so confused by the whole thing, because gunshots were flying everywhere.

But last year, his daughter was outside some club with her boyfriend and some Eight Lanes goons just sprang out of nowhere and opened fire on the two of them. They just Swiss cheesed the dude till he ran out of places to spring holes. Girl was cradling his body when they walked up right to her and shot her clean in the head. All I could think of was at least they didn’t rape her first. I still wonder if they knew who she was. I mean, fact is, like with Griselda in Miami, if you keep pushing and pushing too far, sooner or later your enemies are going to push back. And if you keep making enemies, sooner or later they’re gonna reach critical mass. Only a matter of time before you make enemies as ruthless as you, after all you’re the one raising the bar. Me, I’m never in a place long enough to build a roll call of enemies. That shit is like any other relationship, you nurture it. That’s why I never was one for Colombia or Kingston. I’m a facilitator. Speaking of critical mass, by now the Feds had racked up multiple charges against Josey and they wanted him bad. Somebody had to win the war on drugs and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be a nigger from a Caribbean shithole who should have stuck to pot. This time, they got him in prison. And this time, he’s going to rot.

Yeah, I went to him in prison and it wasn’t visitors hours either. As soon as I said hey Josey, he sat up on the bed and took a good while to look up. When he did, he was smiling, but a small one almost like he was shy. And then he said,

— I knew they would send you.

— How’s things, mijo ?

— Looking at you the better one, Doctor Love.

M iss Segree? Miss Segree? Millicent Segree? Miss Segree?

— It’s not Miss.

— Oh. I’m sorry.

— No problem, Mrs. Segree.

— It’s not Mrs. It’s not Miss, it’s Millicent Segree.